Kathy died last month at age 59. She took her last breath in the spare bedroom of my father's home in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, the room that I stay in when I visit my dad and his beautiful wife, Linda. Kathy was Linda's little sister. And over the past four years, Linda had been a hospice caregiver to her as the ovarian cancer continued to rob her of life as she knew it. But I must digress in the story. My parents divorced after 31 years of marriage, and shortly thereafter, my dad moved back to his hometown, his roots, and his family south of the Mason Dixon line. To be honest, I was bitter at him for doing that...both leaving my mother and geographically removing himself from my life. I felt like he was choosing that over me (and my three brothers and sister)--over watching me grow into a man, seeing my marriage, my first home purchase, my fraternal twins being born, starting my own small business. I was deeply hurt. I swept the pain beneath the carpet, as so many men do, and continued life with little to no communication with him for a few years, honestly thinking that the next time I see my father may be at his funeral. They say time heals all wounds, and one day, after running the 6.1 mile loop around my Bonney Lake neighborhood, I sat in my hot tub and dialed him up trying not to get the phone wet. I remembered the Apostle Paul's words: "...in as much as it depends on you, be at peace with all men." He wasn't just a man? He was my dad! And maybe it depended on me! We talked about the Mariners and how they sucked. The Sonics trading Shawn Kemp (this was years ago!), and how the Seahawks were rebuilding. You know, the superficial surface stuff. But over time, I made a habit of it: I ran early on Saturday mornings, stripped naked, jumped in my hot tub, dialed up the BlackBerry, and called Big Al. But this story isn't about me and my father wound. It's about Linda. About six years ago my dad remarried. I didn't know what to feel. I was skeptical. So my brother Tony and I headed down to New Orleans (pre-Katrina) to sample the Paganism of Bourbon Street for a night (2001) and head north to Baton Rouge and meet Linda. All of the preconceived notions of comparing her to my mother, to wondering who would marry my dad, to contemplating the concept of a "Step Mom" were absolutely foreign to me. Needless to say, I fell in love with her immediately. Not only is she an attractive lady, but her servant's heart, congeniality, and humble confidence more than impressed me. After a few days I felt as if I'd know her my lifetime. She is a wonderful woman, with a huge heart, and a passion for her faith in Jesus Christ and her walk with God (and did I mention she's kinda hot too?). I was floored. Tony and I flew home and marveled. Dad had scored. "How did he pull that off?" we asked. Two years ago I brought Gina and the twins down to meet her and hang with their Grandpa Al, whom they know about from the bedtime stories, pictures, and his visits to the Northwest since his move over a decade ago. They fell in love with Linda too. We fished, boated, ate, and stayed up late laughing and talking, and sharing our lives. Shortly after Kathy was diagnosed, Linda quit her job and made periodic visits to her home, to the doctors, and began caring for her as her health failed. Kathy was a non-Believer and Linda modeled Christ to her through her service, dedication, and unconditional love and acceptance. As she took the morphine for her pain, Linda read the Bible to her, prayed with her, and told her about the next life and the heaven that awaits. A few months before her death, Kathy accepted Christ, and she was baptized in the hospital bathtub inside her shared room. When the doctors gave her only weeks to live, Linda took her into their home where she knew would be her final days. Along with my dad, they cared for her, read to her, and met her needs. When Kathy took her last breath, there was a peace, a grace, and a subtle smile toward the world that she was now entering. Dad and Linda sat over her earthly body, prayed some more, and Linda kissed her little sister for the final time. The medical professionals in assistance were touched and moved by the pleasant release of a dying family member into the arms of a loving Savior that she now resides. While Linda's heart will always ache for her little sister, she is comforted by the reality that she will see her again. Our prayers, letters, and words hopefully helped during her time of grief and loss. I hung up the phone after leaving her a message shortly after Kathy's death, and thanked God for her place in my life, as an inspiration, wonderful companion to my father, and Godly woman that sees others above herself. I still miss my dad. Last summer when my water heater went out, I attempted to install another. Because my mechanical ability absolutely sucks, I threw a crescent wrench across the garage in anger and frustration. "Where is my dad that is supposed to be here helping me with this shit?" I thought! Then I was calmed. In Baton Rouge, with Linda, a God-fearing woman whom he loves, sharing their lives, happy and content in the world that they've created. And I thanked God for that. Then I called a good friend with cooler wrenches and a knack for water heaters. All is well.....thanks, Linda.
